Testing the Waters
by Twilight Fang
Summary: Steve Rogers x Tony Stark - SLASH - Tony drags Steve to a seemingly harmless social function, but the night ends on a disastrous note, leaving Tony in a terrible state
1. Chapter 1

**I am currently trying to juggle my obsession between Sherlock Holmes slash and Iron Man. Thankfully, this fanfic inspiration for Steve x Tony inspired me to write more for Sherlock Holmes. **

**Part 2 is going to be following shortly. **

**Reviews are loved and returned with hugs and cookies!**

**Part 1**

For perhaps the eighth time that night, Steve Rogers glanced at his watch, trying to be very discreet about it so as not to offend the group of people milling about him. He felt very uncomfortable and out of place dressed in a drab suit and tie – the suit stretched to the point that the seams were practically groaning in protest. Okay, so he might've bulked up a bit with all the wars and skirmishes that he'd been involved in over the past year. His broad shoulders and muscular arms were constrained enough to prevent much movement inside what he displeasingly thought of as a classy straitjacket.

Why had he allowed Tony to talk him into this?

Steve shifted to lean his right side up against the bar, lifted his mineral water to his lips but didn't actually drink it. Now, his full attention was directed to the buffet table in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that wrapped around the luxurious penthouse that Tony had ordered rearranged as a classy party room.

Standing by the mouth-watering arrangement of barbecued spare ribs, roast beef, grilled salmon, sushi, and lobster tails, Tony Stark seemed to be deeply intrigued with a lovely, petite brunette who was practically dripping off of the multi-billionaire's arm. There she wavered, staring up at Tony with a doe-eyed expression as he rambled on about… something.

Steve frowned, clenching the bottled mineral water tightly in his hand. Oh, she was a pretty little thing; there was no denying that. But she was a shark. A passive one, but a shark all the same. And what did all female sharks want with the handsome Tony Stark? As Steve saw it, the type that persistently chased Tony would settle for nothing less than a private invitation to his bedroom, access to his fancy sports cars and credit cards, and then the ultimate blow – either breaking Tony's heart or stabbing him in the back.

That was why Steve had agreed to accompany Tony to this fundraiser event, to ensure that his friend and comrade escaped from the night unscathed.

When Tony turned from his star-struck fan to wander around the private tables, Steve watched him curiously before looking over at the brunette again. Tony must've abandoned her pretty abruptly to warrant the malicious glare that burned into the oblivious playboy's back.

From across the room, Tony very casually made his way over to the bar, and to Steve. He'd grown tired of his vapid conversation partner, excused himself from her presence, and had made off with his plateful of hors d'oeuvres and the sparkling soda that he'd requested poured into a martini glass. In the past, he would've gone out of his mind attending one of these tiring functions without softening the torture with a couple of flutes of champagne, or some hard liquor. But, those days were far behind him now and he had no desire to repeat those mistakes again. He'd been sober for exactly two years, three months, and five days. All the beautiful women in the world couldn't possibly challenge his sobriety nowadays.

Coming up behind Steve, Tony claimed his friend's empty barstool, leaning back into the counter as he observed the stiff line of those broad shoulders and extremely tense neck muscles.

"Stop fidgeting. You'll crease the jacket," Tony teased in an overly arrogant voice, keeping up his pretentious behavior for the sake of his expectant guests.

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling around to trip on the barstool that had shifted close to his right leg.

"Where did you come from?" Steve clumsily restored his balance by gripping onto the edge of the counter in a very un-Captain America-like lack of grace. "I saw you over there a minute ago." He nodded to the dessert table at the far end of the room.

"I came over while you were distracting yourself with Miss Evil Eyes over there." Tony indicated the fuming brunette who was now gorging herself on chicken wings. "I can introduce you, if you'd like," he offered, digging into a piece of black forest cake with deliberate slowness. Pausing to lick the fork clean of chocolate sprinkles, he didn't notice the odd way that Steve's eyebrow twitched.

"No thanks." Steve fought to control his body's impulses, wondering if Tony was intentionally making the fork licking appear as a scandalous sexual act, or if it was just an innocent behavioral defect that seemed to fit in nicely with the solicitous undertone of the party. "What're you drinking?"

Tony's answer came rather abruptly, even as he refused to look up at Steve who was hovering over his shoulder. "It isn't alcohol."

"I know that," Steve hurriedly cut in before Tony could become all defensive and saunter off in a huff. He knew how seriously Tony took comments towards his alcoholic deviancy and had no desire to stir up the dust that buried that part of his friend's life. If Tony had started to drink again, Steve prided himself on the fact that he would've been the first to notice. "I just think that it was a nice touch to use that martini glass."

Tony relaxed and smirked. "You can't come to one of these things and sip at mineral water," he commented. "At least not out of the bottle." Beside him, Steve reddened but said nothing. "This sparkling soda goes really well with this cake." He smiled happily at Steve, leaning forward onto the counter with his elbows, while he indulged his sweet tooth.

That smile was really infectious but Steve had a difficult time thinking of anything other than ditching the group of pompous assholes that giggled and chuckled phonily in front of his glowering sky-blue eyes. "Tony, how much longer do we have to hang around here?"

"Bored already?"

"You have no idea!" Steve tugged at his tie, loosening it a bit to allow himself to breathe properly.

Tony finished off his cake and gulped down the soda. "You can leave anytime you want, Steve. I really do appreciate you tagging along though. With everything that's been going on lately, I felt kind of nervous just showing up alone." Pushing away that confession quickly lest Steve target it as open for discussion, Tony hopped off of the barstool and clapped Steve on the shoulder. "If you're still up when I get home, maybe we can do a bit of sparring so that I can work off these calories."

"Um… sure." Steve watched, deflated, as Tony rejoined his rich companions. He openly admired the leanly muscled, dark haired tech genius, watched him strut over to a group of fancily dressed bimbos and goons. The dark, pinstriped Armani suit that Steve had picked out for his friend really looked outstanding on Tony. Unfortunately, it also served as a reminder that Tony was way out of Steve's league.

Having been frozen on ice for a few decades and then waking up to a world that had continued on in his absence, Steve had originally had a lot of trouble adapting to the technological and cultural changes. Although the advancement of technology never ceased to complicate his life and overly tax his patience, the cultural differences had been quickly assimilated by his overeager mind.

One of the very significant cultural differences was the advocacy for sexual freedom and gay rights. Steve had been shocked at first to discover gay and lesbian couples walking hand in hand in the public parks and streets. He'd considered himself to be one hundred percent heterosexual, devoted to monogamous relationships with the rare women that caught his eye. That was until he'd begun to realize how Tony's flirtatious nature and attractive good looks were beginning to lure him in. It had been a gradual thing where his hand would linger on Tony's bare arm after an intensive workout. Occasionally, he would purposely cast himself in the role of third wheel, posing as an obstacle to the flimsy dates that Tony picked up here and there. Nothing ruined a date faster than a friend claiming to be suffering from food poisoning. And then there were the few times that he'd caught himself staring at Tony's ass and thinking impure thoughts about what he could imagine himself doing with it. Contrary to what most people believed the saintly Captain America to be, he was far from being a man lacking in imagination.

But, regardless of his hopelessly romantic attraction to Tony, there wasn't much that Steve could do to act on it if it was one-sided.

Deciding to call it a night, Steve was about to leave when he caught sight of Tony again. Only, this time Tony was with another man and they were both inconspicuously heading for the exit.

It couldn't be what it looked like. Could it?

The other man looked like a rich, fat cat. Oh, he was handsome enough in an I-spend-all-my-time-on-the-beach tanned sort of way. He looked to be a couple of years older than Tony, his short reddish hair flecked with grey, and slightly taller and bigger. There was no mistaking that they were leaving together for the older man pushed open the heavy door and ushered Tony out by dropping his hand to the playboy's waist.

As the door swung shut behind them, Steve sat down feeling disoriented and confused. Since when was Tony bisexual? How had he failed to notice this before? Suddenly, the scene from five minutes ago replayed in Steve's head. Tony had been looking at him so openly, flaunting his sexuality like a sharp weapon, and Steve had inadvertently blown him off. Come to think of it, Tony couldn't have more blatantly thrown himself at Steve if he had tried. What, with the cake licking, contented smile, and the fact that Tony had personally invited him to the party – ignoring all that bullshit about feeling nervous alone – Tony might as well have propositioned him on the spot!

"I'm such an idiot!" Steve chastised himself even as he launched himself off of the barstool and strode purposely for the exit. He'd unknowingly rejected Tony, causing his friend to hastily seek out a new companion to soothe his injured pride and hurt feelings. And what a dangerous thing to do! Taking off with a man he probably knew nothing about in a vulnerable emotional state! When Steve got his hands on Tony, he was going to kill him!

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not sure if anyone is actually reading this… but I appreciate the two people who reviewed so I'm adding the second part. If you do enjoy this and want to read more, please do leave a review. Steve will give you his shield and Tony… well, he'll do something a bit more scandalous. **

When Philip Milton suggested that they get some fresh air together, Tony hadn't given the idea much thought. He'd been too busy keeping himself composed and appearing indifferent after giving Steve permission to go home. To say that he was upset and disappointed would be an understatement.

Despite having a notorious reputation for being a promiscuous womanizer, many members of the press would no doubt be completely shocked if they learnt that Tony Stark rarely followed through with any of the women that he picked up. He'd had a few stable relationships that had ended in disaster over the years, but that was the extent of it. The people around him just loved believing that he went through women at the same speed as he emptied vodka bottles, but that was far from the truth. He just managed to put on a good show in order to uphold his tarnished image.

Whether he sent his dates home early with their silence purchased at a price or not did not damage Tony's ability to keep drawing them in. He prided himself on his keen observation of the men and women that longed for him and presented himself accordingly. He'd been stunned at first, but had recovered decently enough, when Steve's interest in him had seemed to swerve into unfamiliar territory. Up until recently, Tony had been proceeding with the utmost caution, worried that he was either mistaken or was at the risk of screwing up the only good relationship that he valued in his life. But the signs had all been there. The unnecessary touches, the furtive looks, and the way that Steve followed him around like a lost puppy.

Tony could have sworn that he'd seen the hunger in Steve's honest eyes when he'd put on that show with the cake. He'd leaned in closer to Steve, brushing against him, hoping to be rewarded with a smile at the very least, or an arm around his shoulders at the most. And how had Steve reacted? By admitting boredom and the desire to return home. So, feeling numb and stupid over how he had misinterpreted his friend's good intentions, Tony had allowed himself to be led away from the party by Philip.

At his side, Philip matched Tony step for step, the weight of the situation heavy on Tony's shoulders. Men like Philip had expectations and weren't very understanding when things didn't go their way. Well, to hell with Philip. It wasn't like Tony gave a damn what the CEO of Ceristech thought of him.

"My room is three floors down. We can _talk_ there," Philip said gruffly, breaking the silence and making Tony feel pressured and uptight.

"Yeah… about that…," Tony stopped just before the elevators, directly in front of the door leading to the stairwell. The hotel was on a muted lighting scheme to match the nighttime atmosphere. It reminded Tony of just how lonely and deserted the hallways could get at night. Most of the guests on the lower floors were fast asleep and the hotel was now functioning with a skeletal crew. Anyone not asleep and of any social importance was back inside the party room that Tony had left behind.

"Just relax." Philip placed both hands on Tony's shoulders in an effort to release the tension that was radiating off of the younger man.

"Look, I'm sorry…" Tony apologized, shrugging off Philip's hands and turning to face him.

"I understand, Tony. You've never been with a man before, I can tell."

Tony opened his mouth to protest but no words came out. He dropped his gaze uncomfortably when Philip's dark eyes bore into him, demanding the truth.

"But you came to me tonight so you must've realized that this is what you want. I'm sure that you're a fast learner so there's no need to feel inadequate." Moving a few steps away from Tony, Philip pressed the call button for the elevator.

_Inadequate? _ Is that what he really thought? What an egotistical jerk!

Clearing his throat and steeling his nerves, Tony met Philip's eyes with a cold determination. "I really don't think that this is going to work out, Philip. Your personality just rubs me the wrong way." Wanting nothing more than to be out of the presence of the sleazy bastard, Tony made as if to return to the party.

The movement behind him was so quick and unexpected that Tony had no time to react. Philip had grabbed hold of the collar of his jacket from behind and wrenched it over his shoulders and down his back, effectively immobilizing his arms.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Tony yanked away from Philip, and, with his arms still trapped behind his back, planted a powerful kick to the CEO's abdomen. The only thing that saved Philip was the fortunate step back that he took, the extra distance rendering the kick to less than half strength.

If Philip had been accosting a woman, he might've been concerned about indignant shrieks and screams for help. He was pretty confident that Tony would not yell unless he suspected that he were in mortal danger. Philip swore that Tony would not be given the opportunity to summon help until after he'd been sufficiently used and discarded like the slut that he was.

Moving forward again, Philip blocked another of Tony's kicks with his arm in a downward motion, and then, before Tony could back off, he swung that same arm up again at an angle. The back of his hand belted Tony across the face, sending him crashing into the stairwell door. And then, Tony was falling off balance, only managing to shift his weight to one side at the last moment so that he didn't land on his arms and break anything.

"Get away from me!" Tony kicked out at Philip, crushing the heel of his shoe into the man's shin, and the toe of his other shoe just barely missed the man's genitals.

But Philip would not be deterred. He followed Tony into the stairwell and got behind him, grabbing a fistful of jacket to pull Tony entirely through and shut the door behind them.

"I would've preferred something comfortable like the bed, but, oh well." With a bit of a shrug, Philip got down on his knees so that he was straddling Tony's thighs and shifted his weight backwards. Predictably, the kicking and thrashing came to a stop. "That's better."

"Get the hell off of me! You sick bastard!" Against Philip's earlier judgment, Tony was quite vocally expressing his displeasure at being restrained and abused. One would think that he wasn't as flippant in the sexual realm as he pretended to be.

"You entertain me, Tony. In a most satisfying way." Philip rubbed his telltale erection against Tony's leg, snickering when the younger man strained at his arms, ripping the seams of the jacket in places. Tony's face was flushed with disgust, fury, and desperation as he squirmed beneath his attacker. To show Tony just how hopeless his predicament really was, Philip clamped his hands onto the sides of the playboy's face and forced a harsh kiss onto him. Tony made a sound of dismay and kept his lips firmly sealed but couldn't pull away from the contact.

In a panic, Tony tried to imagine what Steve would do in a situation like this. The difference between him and Steve was that Steve's special powers and abilities didn't vanish after the costume came off. Despite his frantic struggles, Tony could gain no leverage, only succeeding in straining his muscles and expending precious energy.

Ending the one-sided kiss, Philip wasted no time in unzipping his pants and freeing himself before he undid Tony's belt and wrestled with the man's pants.

"Stop!" Tony instinctively tried to curl up to protect himself but Philip forcefully shoved him onto his back, cutting off all the circulation from his hands and arms.

"You have nobody but yourself to blame for this." Philip scolded as he wrenched Tony's pants down.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for the reviews! They really inspire me to keep writing… that and my complete and total obsession with this pairing.**

**Part 3**

By the time Steve got through the crowd to find the exit, the hallway was empty. How could he trace Tony when he didn't even know the name of the man that Tony had walked out with? Maybe he was over-exaggerating and worrying over nothing. Tony had looked very self-assured when he'd left… No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, Steve could not quiet the black panic that smothered his reasoning.

While Tony could be considered a formidable ally or a deadly foe in his Iron Man guise, without it, physically, he was in no way superior to anyone in his size range. Add to that the unpredictability of the arc reactor that glowed ominously in the center of Tony's chest… Steve dreaded the possibility of Tony inconveniently having a heart attack before he could fend off that filthy bastard.

Having spent a great deal of time floating in and out of Tony's world, and analyzing the way the corrupted upper crust of society operated, Steve had become pretty good at judging people with a mere glance. He knew that it was shallow and superficial of him to do so but certain words, looks, and gestures did a number on his ability to unconditionally love his fellow man. So, when he'd seen the way that man had predatorily dropped his hand to Tony's waist, Steve had just about lost it then and there. He could sense it in the man's posture and in the dominant manner that he'd urged Tony away with. It meant nothing good. Not for Tony at least.

Caught between the party room and the elevators, Steve debated over going to the front desk to inquire about Tony's whereabouts or returning to question the people within. His inner conflict resolved itself when he heard a muffled cry come from the stairwell.

"Tony?"

Rushing for the door, he didn't make it in time to stop the cruel way that Tony was slammed back into the staircase wall. He had only a moment to register the anguished pain in Tony's tear filled eyes, and then he was barging into that small space with the intent to murder.

Tony's attacker had the fingers of one hand curled menacingly in Tony's dark hair, pulling his head back, and the other hand was forcing the younger man's thighs apart. Tony's pants were around his ankles but his black briefs thankfully still clung to his waist.

Philip looked up, stunned at the interruption, but hadn't even a second to consider his actions before his head was connecting with the steel banister.

Steve hauled Philip up by his throat, shaking the half-conscious man like an enraged bear, knocking him back into the door. "You're going to be so sorry for hurting him," Steve growled, punching Philip in the face and then ramming his knee into the man's exposed genitals that hung out of his pants like an obscene joke.

Choking in excruciating agony, Philip sank to his knees and then fell forward onto his face when Steve released him. He was out cold before he hit the ground. And that was where Steve left the dirty bastard lying.

Crouching down to Tony, Steve took hold of his friend's jacket and tore it down the back seams so that he could free Tony's arms. "It's alright," he said shakily, trying to reassure himself as well as Tony. He felt at a loss, not knowing how he should be acting. Would it be best to act all macho and move off to let Tony recover his dignity in peace? Should he call the police so that Philip would be held accountable for his actions? Would Tony object to being checked over for injuries?

"Hey," Tony said softly, struggling into a sitting position to rub at his sore arms. "I'm fine now. It was nothing," he insisted, holding one hand to his stinging face and smiling up at Steve. When Steve returned the look with one of disbelief, Tony faltered and dropped his gaze, his lips trembling. "I was stupid… I shouldn't have--."

"I don't know why you followed him out or what happened afterwards," Steve began, his voice as frigid as ice, "but this is _not_ your fault." He began to unbutton Tony's dressed shirt, inspecting the white undershirt beneath that was unmarked. "Did he hit the arc reactor? Are you in pain?"

Tony gestured negatively and drew his legs up to try and get his pants back on. What had started out as unnoticeable tremors intensified until Steve couldn't help but notice that Tony was shaking all over. Steve reacted instantly by wrapping his arms around Tony and holding him close.

In response to Steve's tentative embrace, Tony swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to make a sound, even when his tears began to trickle down Steve's neck.

Steve held Tony tighter, rubbing his back soothingly, trying to calm the shaking. "What do you want me to do, Tony? Should I call the police?"

Tony laughed bitterly, choking on his tears, and buried his face into Steve's shoulder, his fingers tugging furiously at Steve's jacket. "I'd love for you to… but whose reputation do you think will suffer more from this?" Before Steve could reply, Tony went on, lamenting over every failure that he'd ever suffered in the public's eye. "They'll just blame this on me… Tony the alcoholic. Tony the irresponsible playboy. Former war profiteer turned desperate boy-toy to one of my company's lamest competitors."

"Stop that!" Steve placed his hand on the back of Tony's head and pressed the dark haired man firmly against him. "I don't want to hear you speak of yourself like that – ever! To hell with what others think of you. I'm not one of them." Coming from someone as wholesome as Steve Rogers, that was about as vehement a rant as he was capable of. "How about Pepper?" That idea seemed like a good one to start with. "I can call her. She'll know what to do."

"Forget Pepper! I want to leave – now!"

"I don't think…"

"That's fine because I'm thinking now. Look, he attacked me, and you attacked him. There. We're even." Tony pushed away from Steve and hurriedly zipped up his pants with shaking hands. "Even if the police were to take my side, what do you think they'll say after they see the way you flattened this asshole's face? Ever heard of overkill, Steve?"

For a moment, Steve was deathly silent, but when he spoke again his convictions were as firm as ever. "For the way he assaulted you, he got off easy. I would do it again… without hesitation."

Tony shot Steve a look of shock and confusion, unwilling to believe that his friend's loyalty ran that deep. His deep sapphire blue eyes widened for a moment before he ducked his head again with a poorly disguised look of shame. "Please… just help me get out of here. Unseen."

"Tony--," Steve pleaded.

"If you're my friend," Tony ground out evenly, "you'll drop this."

Left with little choice, and not wanting to upset Tony further, Steve helped lift Tony up, off of the floor, and steadied him when he swayed unsteadily on his feet. "Elevator or stairs?"

"Stairs."

"Then we do this my way." Stooping down, Steve pulled Tony off balance and then lifted the cursing billionaire up and into his arms in what could have passed off as a romantic overture.

"Fuck, Steve, put me down!"

"I'm not going to chance you tumbling down the stairs and injuring yourself further." Ignoring Tony's embarrassed grumblings, Steve carried Tony down the sixty-eight flights of stairs, only pausing occasionally to readjust the precious bundle in his arms. But, as he exited the building through one of the service entrances, he couldn't help but think that he'd allowed Tony to pressure him into making a very big mistake.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much for the reviews and sorry for the wait on this part. I keep losing my italics and other formatting.**

**Part 4**

Nearly two hours had passed since… well, since Tony had been subjected to _whatever the hell _in that claustrophobic stairwell. Tony really didn't know why Steve had to keep using such modern terms like 'sexual assault' and 'attempted rape' – terms that Tony had assumed weren't even assimilated into Steve's updated vocabulary. Anyway, it hadn't gotten that far, _wouldn't_ have gotten that far. Steve had stopped it from happening.

_Nothing happened!_

Tony scrubbed at his arms harder, attempting to erase the bruises that formed the telltale shape of fingerprints. Philip's fingerprints. On his shoulders, the side of his neck… and then there were the ones that were much darker, lower on his body. Clinging to his narrow hips, scratching down his thighs. Filthy markings that defiled his body and plagued his mind.

Growling with frustration and disgust, Tony continued to scrub with the coarse sponge that was really supposed to be used to remove the hard calluses from the bottoms of his feet. Above his head, the steaming hot water of the shower continued to drench him, plastering his dark hair to his skin, washing away the thin stream of blood from the open cuts that he angrily rubbed at.

From outside, a harsh banging shook the bathroom door. "Tony! Are you okay in there?"

Steve again.

Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

Unbidden, the feeling of being pressed against Steve's powerful chest, those muscular arms cradling him so carefully, burned through Tony's mind like a memory given life. The only real and true friend that he held dear in life had literally saved him from a fate worse than death. He couldn't imagine having survived that kind of ultimate violation with his sanity intact. Just the mere thought made him wish that he'd never stopped drinking.

"Tony!"

Backing up until his back was flush against the white tiles of the shower stall, Tony swallowed down the rushing tide of nausea that threatened to drown him and forced out a solicitous response.

"Couldn't be better. Wanna join me?"

A predictable length of silence followed that invitation, just as Tony had been hoping for. Throw Steve off balance. Don't allow him to realize the truth – that Tony was in absolutely no condition to be claiming to be fine and unaffected by what had happened. He honestly didn't know how he was feeling, how he should be feeling, what he should be doing. He shouldn't even be dwelling on an appropriate reaction because _nothing_ had happened.

"Actually… under the circumstances… I think that might be best," Steve answered before testing the doorknob to find it locked. "Can you let me in?"

Tony opened his mouth to express his shock at Steve's unusual request… only to find that no words were coming out. Why did Steve want to come in? What would he say? He couldn't possibly want to see Tony after what had happened? To see all of the wretched markings on his body – his tainted flesh.

"Tony…"

There was no getting rid of Steve once he set his mind on something. It was annoyingly obvious that he'd set his mind on getting into the bathroom and nothing short of Tony opening the door would appease him now.

"Okay…," Tony shut off the water and rolled his eyes at Steve's persistent nature. That was one of the character traits that he found the most endearing about his good friend. And attractive. To think that he'd actually deluded himself into believing that Steve might desire him as anything more than a friend. What the hell had he been thinking? Even if Steve did swing both ways, he would never consider hooking up with an individual as screwed up as Tony. "Hold on…" Wrapping himself in the biggest towel he could get his hands on – a red, white, and blue striped one – he carefully unlocked the door and peered out. "What?"

There Steve stood with his hands fisted at his sides in an attempt to keep his arms down. At first, he only sighed visibly, relieved to see that Tony hadn't been trying to drown himself in the tub. "You've been in there for over an hour. I was beginning to worry…"

"I think you mean to say, 'panic'," Tony corrected cheekily. "Well, now that you can see that I wasn't doing anything stupid, you can go back to whatever it was that you were doing."

"Move away from the door."

Having absolutely no idea why Steve was behaving so aggressively, Tony doubled up his defenses by leaning against the door and glaring into his friend's strained azure eyes. "I really appreciate what you did for me tonight," he began in a dangerously quiet voice, "more than you'll ever realize. And I owe you… big time. But, right now… I need you to back off."

"That's never worked in the past and we both know it." Steve placed the palm of his right hand firmly on the door, preventing Tony from slamming it shut in his face. "I don't want to hurt you so please move away from the door." When Tony put his weight into trying to close it again, Steve just about growled in frustration. "Dammit, Tony. This may work with Jarvis but I'm a lot heavier and stronger than he is. You're going to force me to damage something."

Steve did have a point. The door had begun to make desperate creaking noises, which were bound to wake up the other occupants in the mansion if they weren't careful.

"Fine. You win." Tony moved away from the door, drawing the towel tighter around his shoulders.

Steve tentatively entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and looked Tony over. "That's my towel," he exclaimed automatically, forgetting the seriousness of the situation for a moment to ponder how he felt about Tony being wrapped up in something that belonged to him.

"Is it? Sorry."

"It's okay." Instinctively, Steve reached out to tug the towel away from Tony's neck, wanting to inspect the chafing bruises that had been left behind by Tony's jacket and overlapped by the violent way that Philip had grabbed Tony. Tony wasn't fast enough to prevent him from seeing the raw, bloody patch of skin that was staining the white area of the towel. "Tony… what have you been doing to yourself?" Steve gasped in dismay, yanking the towel out of Tony's grasp to expose similar injuries leading down the man's bruised torso.

"Disinfecting," Tony snarled miserably.

"Like hell!" Pulling the towel back up to conceal the markings once more, Steve wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders and urged him out of the bathroom.

"Now what?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Steve practically dragged Tony to his bedroom, only releasing him once he'd locked the door. He watched Tony's eyes flit nervously to the door and then to the bed, and finally to the heavy, circular shield resting in one corner.

Ignoring Tony's trapped expression, Steve crossed the room to retrieve a handful of items from his desk drawer. A bottle of antiseptic, a soothing lotion, some gauze, and band-aids. Then, he sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside him. "Sit down and let me treat those nasty cuts."

"I'm fine," Tony insisted.

"Your method of disinfecting really makes me think otherwise. Now either you sit down voluntarily or I drag you over here myself."

One look at Steve's determined expression and Tony was convinced that he'd been given no idle threat. Not really liking the fact that he was being bullied into cooperating, he gingerly sat down beside Steve, constantly aware of the most painful areas of his thighs as he moved. He said nothing when Steve pulled the towel away from his body, draping it respectively over his lap. There was a brief pause while Steve dampened the sterile gauze in the antiseptic, and then Tony felt a stinging pain at the side of his neck. He hissed and shied away from Steve, but his friend shifted closer to continue his ministrations.

"Ouch! What is that shit? Acid?"

"Sorry. I'm trying to go as fast as I can." Steve concentrated on keeping his hands steady as his anger increased minutely. Aside from the self-inflicted damage that Tony had caused, the distinctly shaped bruising disturbed Steve greatly. Philip had punched Tony in the ribs at one point, luckily not hard enough to break anything, but any higher and he might have successfully dislodged the arc reactor. Mindful of Tony's pain and discomfort, Steve rushed through the treatment, nearly biting his tongue as he restrained himself from commenting on how deep some of the cuts were.

When Steve was halfway through applying the lotion, gently with the tips of his fingers, he risked peering down into Tony's face. Tony's eyes were pinched shut as he forced himself to endure what was being done, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere because his cheeks and ears were a crimson red, and his facial muscles twitched reflexively against whatever dark thoughts he was preoccupied with. His dark eyelashes appeared to be damp, shining with the tears that he refused to shed. Seeing Tony so uncharacteristically overwhelmed with shame broke Steve's resolve then and there.

"Tony, I'm sorry." Acting impulsively, Steve caught Tony in an awkward embrace, pulling the smaller man back against his chest. "I'm so, so sorry."

That act of compassion and the unshielded emotion in Steve's voice jarred Tony out of the hellish memory that he'd been reliving. "Why?" Why should Steve be sorry? Steve had been the one who had come rushing to the rescue. How he had gotten there so fast and where he had come from were questions that Tony wished to ask but couldn't quite work up the courage to voice them.

"I saw you leave with him. I got a really bad feeling… just by watching the way he herded you out the door." Steve cleared his throat when the guilt that he felt began to torment his words. "I should've intervened… I should've stopped him. But… I hesitated."

Tony froze, confused to hear that Steve hadn't left the party directly after claiming to have been bored. Even more shocked upon realizing that Steve had witnessed it happening and might've been able to prevent it. But believing such a thing was just being cruel and unfair towards Steve. How could he have possibly anticipated what would've happened next? Steve had no say in the idiotic actions that Tony alone was responsible for. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm dead serious."

"Why the hell are you blaming yourself?"

_Because I made you feel rejected. Because I let you get hurt._ "If I had acted on my instincts…"

"Why didn't you?" There was not even a sliver of accusation in Tony's voice.

_Because I thought that I had no right to be jealous. I had no claim on you. _"I… wasn't sure," he replied simply.

"Exactly! Unless you suddenly developed clairvoyance overnight, there was no way you could've known. And, like I said before, _nothing_ terrible happened."

From behind, Steve brought his hand up to brush the backs of his fingers against Tony's cheek. "Sure," he said softly, drying the tears that Tony had been hoping to hide. _If it makes you feel better, keep telling yourself that it was nothing. But that 'nothing' is going to haunt me for a very, very long time. _"You need to get some rest."

"Don't need it," Tony objected, but did nothing to prevent Steve from positioning them further up the bed. He was too tired to feel embarrassed when Steve took the damp towel and launched it onto the floor, replacing it with a warm blanket. And then Steve was lying back against the pillows, pulling Tony down with him. Tony lay there with his head on Steve's chest, startled by the intimate way that Steve seemed to be embracing him. One arm was loosely draped over his waist, the other over his shoulders. And now Steve had pressed the palm of his hand against the side of Tony's face, his thumb idly tracing the tears that refused to stop. "Why?" Tony choked out, his voice breaking into a sob. _No, no, no, no! Not in front of him… I can't… _But it was too late. The tenderness of the moment, the gentleness of Steve's touch, it proved to be too much for Tony. He continued to fight it even as the sobs became more vocal.

"I won't let him hurt you ever again," Steve vowed, stroking Tony's back and tightening the embrace as his friend cried against him.

No more was said between them. Eventually, Tony wore himself out and quieted down, his breathing still hitching now and then but otherwise calm. Steve waited until he was sure that Tony was fast asleep before pressing a kiss to his friend's forehead and reaching across to the bedside table to flick off the light. It wasn't until a long while later that he himself drifted off into an unpleasant sleep. 

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm really terribly sorry for not being able to update this in so long. Sometimes real life gets in the way of fanfic writing and it takes me a while to get back into it. **

**Thanks so much for all the wonderful comments that have convinced me to continue this fic.**

**Part 5**

Steve was lost in a deep, comfortable sleep, having forgotten about the miserable anxiety of the night before. He burrowed deeper into the blankets and the fluffy pillows that Pepper had gone about supplying the Avengers with after Logan had shred his apart – again. That incident had led to Carol's complaint about the pillows being old and moldy, a complaint that Peter seconded with suspicions of bed bugs. Needless to say, the Avengers hadn't had any trouble sleeping after most of the well-worn mattresses and pillows had been replaced.

But, the fluffy pillows weren't the source of Steve's content. Most of the credit for his enjoyable slumber was thanks to the warm, unclothed body that snuggled up against his own, wrapped in his arms. Soft, dark hair brushed against his chin, and the slightly coarser texture of facial hair tickled his throat.

Instinctively, Steve's arms tightened around the narrow waist, ducking his head down to inhale the fresh scent of some kind of tropical shampoo in that wavy hair. In response, the lean limbs latched onto his shoulders and hooked over the back of his leg as his bedmate pressed against his chest.

Slowly, Steve opened his eyes, smiling down at... Tony?

Reality came crashing back to Steve, nearly causing him to bolt to the other side of the bed. How in the hell had he managed to latch onto Tony in such an immorally suggestive manner? If Tony had woken up first…

Quickly, Steve withdrew his arms, and more importantly, his hands from where they'd been resting on the muscular smoothness of Tony's bare ass. That was just what he didn't need, to put Tony into a position where he might feel physically compromised after what had happened back at the hotel. As much as Steve wanted Tony, now was not the time to drop that startling revelation into his best friend's lap.

Steve's bedroom remained dimly shaded, despite the strong rays of sunlight that snuck through gaps in the dark blue drapes covering the large window. A steady stream of bright light bathed Tony's smooth back in highlights, making his nicely olive-colored skin seem oddly pale.

Lowering his hand again, Steve stroked down Tony's back, reaching the position where the blanket had descended to, pulling it back up to cover his friend's shoulders.

"Hmm…" Tony stirred, moving against Steve, his fingers curling in the fabric of the short-sleeved t-shirt that Steve had thrown on in haste. His other hand wandered over Steve's powerful chest for a moment before he gave a confused, muffled noise. And then, he was awake, blinking up at Steve in utter bewilderment. "Steve…?"

"Please don't panic," Steve pleaded, holding his hands up where Tony could see them when those hazy blue eyes widened in astonishment. "You fell asleep like that… and I didn't want to disturb you so…"

Patches of scarlet darkened Tony's cheeks as he realized just what Steve was babbling on about. "I'm naked," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Um… well… yes, you are."

"In your bed."

"I guess so."

"You mean to tell me that you weren't the slightest bit tempted?" Tony teased, throwing the pressure onto Steve so that he could cover up his own embarrassment.

This was awkward. Steve chose his next words very carefully. He really didn't appreciate Tony making light of such a serious situation but he had to accept that this was the way his friend dealt with stress. "I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't been tempted," Steve admitted, hoping that gave Tony something to think about while he retreated from the bed. Nothing soothed Tony more than a good ego-stoking "But there are certain lines that I don't cross."

Tony's eyes lit up at Steve's words. He lunged forward and grabbed onto a muscular forearm, preventing his friend from escaping. "That's not something that you can joke about, Steve," he warned coldly.

Struggling to erase the memory of a distraught Tony crying in his arms mere hours ago, Steve didn't immediately turn to face him. Instead, he paused with one foot hanging over the edge of the bed, poised to escape if necessary. Why did he have such a big mouth? Why couldn't he lie as smoothly as Jessica seemed to be able to? Or, at the very least, he wouldn't mind having Peter's corny sense of humor. A few ill-humored jokes might possibly distract Tony from what he'd just said.

But, confessions like that couldn't be taken back, no matter how much he regretted his honesty at times like these.

"You joked about it," Steve pointed out, delaying the inevitable.

"Because that's what I do. But not you."

Taking a deep breath, Steve pulled away from Tony, not trusting himself to speak until he was out of the bed and a good distance away from temptation. "You're right, I wasn't joking. But, I shouldn't have said anything. Now is a very bad time to discuss this further."

"You weren't joking…" Tony repeated, looking hopeful and distressed at the same time. "Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here? Did I make you uncomfortable last night? If so, I'm really sorry… I should have had more control over my emotions. I can just imagine what you must've been thinking…" Wringing a clump of sheets in his hands, Tony desperately tried to lure Steve back into the bed. "It won't happen again, I swear."

"No, you're taking this the wrong way." Steve took a step forward, hesitated, but was back on the bed before Tony could really become upset. "You didn't do anything wrong last night. I just need you to know that this," he indicated the arms that he'd wrapped around Tony, "is only comfort. That's all it can be right now."

"But you just said…"

"Yeah, I'm attracted to you but the timing is really bad, Tony. You can see that, can't you?"

Silently, Tony nodded, content with just knowing that the object of his desires considered him to be attractive.

"We'll talk about 'this' later. How are you feeling today?"

"Naked."

"Tony," Steve muttered patiently.

"Bruised. Pissed off."

Pissed off was good. That was something that Steve could work with. "What kind of pissed off?"

"The kind that is screaming at me for being such an idiot last night. Steve, I freaked out. I didn't know how to react to what happened… so I panicked."

"I know," Steve said encouragingly, beginning to stroke his fingers through Tony's hair.

"I made a mistake."

"What do you mean? I already told you that this was not your fault."

"No, I mean… I should've reported him." Tony's voice rose in wavering emotion as he relived what had happened to him in the stairwell. "I should've trusted you to take care of it. Now he's going to think that he got away with what he did. That bastard and his disgusting touch…"

Steve held Tony tighter when his friend began to tremble. "You can still report it. I can get Pepper to contact the police and your lawyer. I'm sure that there is video camera footage they can use as evidence. And I can give my statement as a witness. I'll support you no matter what you decide, but I think that you should pursue this. Don't let that filth off the hook."

"Are you sure that it's not going to look like I… you know?" Tony couldn't manage to voice the awful thoughts that were rattling in his head.

"No. And you don't have a history of that kind of behavior so stop worrying about what people are going to think of you. Can I leave you alone for a few minutes while I give Pepper a call?"

"Are you going to tell her?"

"Do you want to?"

"No," Tony replied quickly. "I'd rather you told her. It's going to be hard enough describing what happened to the cops."

"Tony, are you sure you're okay?" Steve glanced at the door and then back at Tony, reluctant to leave his friend alone.

"No, but I'll get over it."

Figuring that if Tony was honestly admitting that he was not okay, he could be trusted alone for a few minutes, Steve hurried out of the room to contact Pepper.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Hopefully the next part won't be far behind this one. It's currently one of many works-in-progress.**

**Part 6**

When a few minutes turned into ten, and then twenty, Tony decided that he'd had enough of the suspense and decided to seek out Pepper's wrath before it came and found him. He could just imagine the lecture she was preparing for him. She'd be furious – of that he had no doubt – and would waste no time in demanding to know the finer details of what had occurred as a result of his own carelessness last night. Pepper had little use for the 'middle man' and would probably barely tolerate Steve's explanation, only because Steve happened to be the beloved Captain America that she respected and admired. Tony knew Pepper very well and could predict her reaction to anything from an all-out nuclear war to the microwave oven conking out.

Time was a serious factor when it came to either Tony or Pepper so Tony quickly wrapped himself up in Steve's semi-damp stars-and-stripes towel and scampered down the hallway to his own bedroom.

Knowing that he'd be facing a lethal redhead wearing brand name, pointy, stiletto heels, Tony wisely selected an outfit that would put his personal assistant at a disadvantage. Nothing screamed, 'I'm not taking you seriously', louder than a well-worn tank top balanced by a pair of torn and faded blue jeans. Although his schedule for the day was loaded down with business meetings, he figured that he could just show up to them minus the tailored Armani suit and tie and smile his way through a boardroom full of disapproving glares.

He wandered through the embarrassingly large Avengers' mansion, trying to anticipate how Pepper would launch into her tirade, planning a dozen ways to cut her off or change the subject.

By some miracle, Tony was able to sneak past anyone who happened to be awake, not wanting to be bombarded with questions about where the bruise on his face had come from. The bump on the back of his head had been easy enough to hide after fluffing up his hair a bit; not that anyone would have any reason to get close enough to him to spot the damage.

Feeling more paranoid by the second, Tony finally located Pepper and Steve huddled very close together, outside, on one of the upper balconies. He couldn't hear a word they were saying, but their expressions more than made up for that. Steve's eyes were narrowed; he didn't appear to be saying much, but the standoffish way that he had his arms crossed in front of his chest, grimacing as Pepper leaned in towards him, scowling, said it all.

Putting on his best poker face, Tony opened the glass door to the balcony, startling the two conspirators. He caught the tail-end of Pepper's snarled, "—gonna kill him with my bare hands!", but refused to bat an eye.

"Well, here I am. You can commence with the killing anytime now."

Steve's mouth opened in shock at Tony's flippant comment but no words came out. Okay, so maybe it wasn't Tony that Pepper wanted to kill.

Pepper took one look at Tony and the livid red patches coloring her cheeks darkened, giving her face – and the generous sprinkling of freckles that were concentrated there – a healthy glow. Maybe too healthy for a woman with her vindictive nature.

Much to Tony's surprise, and discomfort, the anger in Pepper's overall demeanor vanished to replaced with naked sympathy and hurt as she rushed over to him. "My God, Tony, you look terrible." Her slender fingers pressed to the sides of his face, mindful of the bruise there, as she held him still for inspection. "Have you seen a doctor?"

That question threw Tony a bit off guard and he replied dumbly, "What the hell for?"

"Steve said…" Pepper hesitated, again making Tony squirm and fidget under her penetrative gaze. Pepper never hesitated. It made Tony nervous to see her doing so now.

Coming to Pepper's rescue, Steve piped up, also moving a lot closer to Tony. "You hit your head pretty hard yesterday… I think that you should have it checked out. Just to be safe."

"The police will probably want you to be examined anyhow," Pepper continued, grateful for Steve's support. She let her hands drop to her sides, lowering her head for a moment to give Tony a moment to register that fact.

"Sounds like fun," Tony muttered under his breath.

"I know that look."

Tony looked at Pepper in confusion, not really sure why she wasn't tearing into him for his irresponsible behavior. If anyone could put him in his place, it was Pepper Potts with her straightforward no-bullshit conversational tactics.

"What look?"

"The self-recriminating one that means you're blaming yourself for what happened. And you shouldn't. It's that son-of-a-bitch Milton that should be hanging himself over what he did to you."

"I'm not-," Tony began to protest, swallowing back the rest of his sentence when Pepper's startlingly clear green eyes made eye contact in a teary anguished glare.

"Don't deny it. We've known each for too long for you to be able to get away with it. Just listen…" She glanced at Steve, who had shifted closer to Tony, one big hand squeezing the industrialist's shoulder affectionately, and paused. Her woman's intuition practically set off multiple alarms at the way Steve was hovering over Tony, and the suspicious manner in which Tony seemed to be enjoying – even encouraging – the attention. As much as she wished to further analyze the odd vibes she was getting off the two men, the current situation required her full attention. The weirdness would have to wait until later. "I'm going to call the police, and then your lawyer. I'll notify her that you'll be pressing charges and canceling all business transactions with Ceristech."

Tony couldn't help but feel mildly pleased with Pepper's insightfulness despite the way that she professionally rambled on. He'd been too upset to consider the ramifications of bringing his lawyer and the police into what would soon become a very messy battle. Of course all business ties needed to be severed.

"Are you sure that it's not a bit premature to go that far?" Tony questioned her lightly.

"Oh, you mean to punish the entire corporation for the acts of its CEO? I'm surprised that you would ask that considering some of the cutthroat business decisions you've made in the past." Pepper backtracked quickly when Steve shook his head silently at her. "I'll see to it that it's all legal. That man will not be given any excuse to attempt to see you once we've cut him off. And just in case he's stupid enough to try it, we'll apply for a restraining order."

"That's just going to give him the wrong message," Tony protested.

"This isn't about pride," Steve spoke quietly by Tony's ear, "it's about keeping you safe and away from that deranged man."

"The restraining order was Steve's idea," Pepper added, hoping to distract Tony while she got busy doing what needed to be done. "I'm going to get on this right away." She slipped past Tony, patting him reassuringly on the arm as she went by.

"She's a great woman," Tony said with a grin, turning to leave the balcony himself.

But, Steve seemed to have other ideas because he held Tony back and shut the glass door again.

"Now what?"

"You're acting far too casually about this."

"Oh, come on! How do you want me to act?"

Steve followed Tony further out onto the balcony, waiting until his friend was at the edge before carefully wrapping his arms around the man's stiff shoulders.

"Steve," Tony began in a warning tone, but did not shrug off the comforting arm.

"I just find it unsettling to see you acting so chipper after how upset you were last night. That's all. Pepper said that you'd swing back and forth from blaming yourself to outright denial. I think she was right."

"You're hardly in a position to be judging me for the way I act," Tony snarled at Steve, reconsidering the arm on his shoulders, pushing it off with more than a little force.

Steve took a step back, fearing that he'd put their friendship on a rocky plateau after he'd admitted to finding Tony attractive and eluding to the possibility of their friendship evolving into something more… but not now. His own feeling of guilt in the matter was plainly written all over his face. He regretted being too blind and afraid to accept Tony's advances at face value. If he'd only…

"First, you imply that you feel something other than friendship for me… but then you act as if touching me or being close to me is like contracting an infectious disease."

"I don't want to hurt you," Steve ground out between clenched teeth, trying to be patient with Tony's little outburst but finding it difficult with such a distasteful accusation hanging in the air between them.

"So touching me is painful then?"

"Damn it, Tony! You just love twisting my words around, don't you?"

"Is that because you only said you were interested in me out of pity? Or because you don't want to touch me after that bastard got there first?" Tony continued to vent, ignoring Steve's indignant response.

Steve froze. Part of him wanted to unleash the rage he felt at hearing Tony utter such a despicable untruth that really came as no surprise to him. He wished that he could fly off the handle as gleefully as Tony seemed to. Most of the people who really knew Captain America, and had seen him in action, knew that even he had his tarnished moments. Steve was not beyond kicking the enemy when he was down. But, Tony was not the enemy, far from it, in fact. Tony had never been in a more vulnerable state, conflicting emotions shifting his features, his dark blue eyes wavering with unshed tears.

Instead of shouting back, Steve moved closer to Tony again, placing both hands on his friend's arms to hold him in place. "This is really against my better judgment… I shouldn't take advantage of you, but I can't watch you beat yourself down either."

Tony jerked backwards, trying to escape Steve's grasp, but discovered that he had nowhere to escape to when his back bumped into the railing behind him.

"This isn't out of pity," Steve informed Tony as he leaned forward, violating Tony's personal space before his lips pressed firmly to the shocked industrialist's. Tony reacted predictably, denying that Steve's affections were anything but pity, trying to pull away. He might as well have tried knocking over a mountain because Steve would not budge.

Tony kept his lips sealed shut, growing angrier by the second when Steve continued with what he considered to be a mock kiss. And then, one of Steve's hands left his arm to trail down his back, stopping at his waist to urge him closer. Suddenly, he found himself in Steve's arms, feeling the heat and solidity of that powerful body pressed up against his own.

When Steve had Tony positioned in the way he wanted, his fingers moved to the man's bearded jaw, gripping it gently but firmly, holding him still as he deepened the one-sided kiss. "Stop fighting me," Steve growled, increasing the pressure until he was sure that it'd leave behind bruises later. Whether Tony finally gave up or lost to Steve's superior strength wasn't immediately determinable, but Steve didn't dwell on the reason why. He forced his tongue past Tony's soft lips and into the warm, wet mouth that he'd wanted to kiss for what seemed like an eternity. He was used to being a considerate and yet passionate lover, but he held back this time, merely stroking his tongue alongside Tony's until he seemed to get a response. He expected Tony to fight him some more so he was a little caught off guard when the handsome man in his arms suddenly began to participate in the kiss.

Tony sucked on Steve's tongue, reaching up to wrap his arms around the man's thickly muscled neck and intensified the kiss. He closed his eyes tightly as he angled upwards to meet the taller man's hungry mouth. Their lips slid wetly together, only separating for air, but barely so when Tony chased after Steve's tongue again to renew the kiss.

Steve crushed Tony tighter to his body, listening to his usually well-composed friend shamelessly moan in his arms, rubbing up against him like a hormonally charged tiger. Although it hadn't seemed like a good idea at first, his more primal instincts were now telling him that this was exactly what Tony needed. This was the only kind of comfort that Tony wanted from Steve at the moment and so Steve had decided to stop holding back and just give it to him.

Another kiss led to another, and more frantic rubbing and grinding until Steve caught hold of Tony's hips to still him. "We need to take this slowly," he insisted, his body betraying his words when Tony nudged his thigh into the aching hardness that Steve could do nothing to hide. Biting back a groan, Steve pushed the lower half of Tony's body back against the railing. "Tony, please… I'm too close. We can't do this now."

Breathing heavily and eyeing Steve through his lowered eyelashes, Tony surged back up to tease another kiss from Steve before settling down a little. Steve watched Tony warily, feeling a bit worried over the lustful gaze that followed his every move.

"That was for real, wasn't it?" Tony asked, his voice a little rough and breathless from their passionate kisses.

Attempting to smile reassuringly at Tony, Steve looked over at his friend, his lips curving into a predatory grin despite his best efforts to tame it. He took in Tony's thick dark hair, falling in unruly waves over his forehead, admiring the way his friend's flushed skin made him look even more tanned, exotic. How long had Tony been after those kisses? Steve wondered who had been pining over whom longer. Watching Tony standing there, off balance, tempting him with those bedroom eyes, did nothing to appease the sudden desire he had to tear the worn clothes from his friend's body and take him then and there.

In the end, instead of replying, Steve rushed forward again, clasped Tony's face between his hands and kissed him desperately, hoping and praying that Pepper would return to break it up because he just couldn't stop himself.

_To be continued._


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you very much for all the reviews, despite the lack of updates in what has been a very long time. I really love writing Steve x Tony and will try to keep updating this fic but can't make any promises because sometimes real life gets very busy. But I will do my best to get the next part out as soon as it's finished. **

**I couldn't possibly abandon this fic because it's still got a few parts to go and the very enthusiastic reviews gave me the energy that I needed to keep going with it.**

**Part 7**

Overhead the flutter of pigeons clumsily veering off the roof and heading towards the gardens below went unacknowledged. Even as the lighting faded, miserable grayish clouds moving in quickly, followed by a clap of thunder, Steve and Tony took no notice.

Despite having his arm trapped at an awkward angle between Tony's back and the balcony railing, Steve still managed to get a good grasp on the brunette's crumpled white tank top, pulling it out of Tony's jeans. He quickly replaced the tank top with the palm of his hand, shoving it as far down the back of Tony's pants as he could reach. And then, he simply grabbed onto the warm flesh beneath, pressing their bodies as close together as was humanly possible.

Tony was too caught up in their fiercely hot kiss to protest Steve's uncharacteristically aggressive groping. He felt as if he were being consumed by a fire, one that he craved and welcomed. All of his synapses were flashing ecstatically like a maze of heavily clustered Christmas lights. For once, his brain had no idea what he wanted or needed. No. His body was doing all the thinking for him. And the only thing that his body was interested in was what Steve Rogers was doing to it.

"We really should take this slow," Steve growled against Tony's throat, eagerly licking and kissing him there. But he contradicted that desire when Tony moaned enthusiastically, urging him to push forward. Still mindful of the injuries that Tony had sustained from the night before, Steve pulled his hand free from Tony's backside, placed both hands on the man's slim hips and lifted. It was a spur-of-the-moment type of maneuver, an act that he'd hoped Tony would find sensual and romantic. But, the second that Steve had lifted Tony to sit on the railing, leaving the brunette's legs splayed wide open, with Steve settling between them, something snapped.

"No!" Tony shoved away from Steve, flailing against him when the bigger man clutched desperately at his shoulders to keep him from falling backwards.

"Tony!" Steve wrapped his arms around Tony, frantically pulling in the reverse direction.

"Let me go! Stop it!" Now Tony was kicking at Steve, panicking when his struggles made Steve hold him tighter, pull harder.

"Dammit, Tony! You're going to fall!" With one quick, fluid motion, Steve yanked Tony off of the railing and pushed him to the other end of the balcony with barely restrained superhuman strength. Then he held up his hands passively, making no attempt to approach his friend. "I wasn't going to do anything without your permission. I didn't mean to scare you."

Tony's head whipped up quickly, strands of his dark brown hair falling into his blazing eyes. "Scare me?! Of course you didn't scare me," he scoffed indignantly as he staggered briefly before righting his balance. "What the hell kind of stupid thing is that to say?"

"And you would interpret this… how?" Calmly, Steve circled around Tony, herding him back towards the balcony doors.

As if to punctuate the question, a streak of lightning tore across the sky mere milliseconds before the earth seemed to shake with the reverberation of the thunder that accompanied it. Tiny raindrops pitter pattered onto the balcony, splashing into Tony's wavering eyes and pasting Steve's short blond hair to his head.

"Come inside," Steve beckoned, holding out his hand for Tony. When Tony just stood there, frozen and mute, Steve carefully ushered him through the double doors of the balcony with one arm firmly at his back. "We'll continue this another time, I promise you."

"Continue what?" From the opposite wall hung two slim, costumed figures, lurking in the darkness of the hallway. One tended to lean more towards the angular side while the other one could do nothing to hide the generous curves that she'd been endowed with.

Steve sighed, his arm pulling Tony against him, thankfully without any resistance. He raised his stern blue gaze to take in the two spies that appeared to be mysteriously glued to the wall and ceiling. Both were clothed in their full spider-kinky attire. Okay, maybe not intentionally kinky, but nothing said weird quite like a grown adult dressed up like a red spider. "Look, guys, now really isn't the time."

"Did we interrupt something?" Peter asked dumbly, peering over Jessica's shoulder from his obscured vantage point. "Were you guys fighting again? We won't tell anyone if you were."

"Pfft! Fighting my sexy ass," Jessica scoffed, the corners of her glossy lips turning up into a satisfied grin. "I've never seen a fight with that much suction."

"Eww! Like, as in an octopus?"

Jessica rolled her eyes at Peter and stopped midway when she realized that he wouldn't be able to benefit from the action while her mask was in place. "Peter, you really are pretty thick at times."

"And you," Steve rumbled in annoyance at Jessica, "are really hard up if this is what you do in your free time."

"What? Oh, you mean watching some wholesome man-on-man action – minus the Internet connection?" Jessica tilted her head, as if in thought, and then her grin widened. "So label me sleazy."

"Man on man what?" Peter croaked, having missed whatever Jessica was referring to.

"Go get a hobby!" Steve led Tony away from the spider duo, practically fuming at their insensitivity and lack of propriety. "Back when I was their age, such behavior was considered to be lewd and perverted," he ranted as he steered Tony towards the kitchen. "Intruding on the privacy of others. Joking about what was supposed to be an intimate moment."

"Don't be so hard on them," Tony sighed, finally roused enough to feel like speaking again. "And for the record, I was the one who destroyed the 'intimate moment'."

"There will be plenty of other _moments_ in the future. After we've dealt with that sick bastard Milton, we can focus on our… relationship." Contrary to whatever rumors might have indicated about Tony and his aversion to commitment, the mention of starting a relationship with Steve seemed to settle the self-professed playboy's nerves. His tense and wound up muscles relaxed under Steve's powerful, yet gentle, hands.

"Tony!"

Steve whirled around to catch Jessica leaning breathlessly in the doorway. She no longer looked sultry and playful. All the teasing long forgotten, she pretended to be ignorant to Tony's hasty retreat from Steve's questionably intimate embrace. Peter reared up behind her, nervously casting a glance over his shoulder as the sound of escalated voices made their way upstairs.

"What is it, Jessica?"

"There's a man downstairs with some police officers making threats against you," she blurted out. "And Steve."

"A very rude man," Peter added. "He just pushed right past Jarvis."

Not giving Tony so much as a sideways glance, Steve stormed down the stairs where he ran into a smartly dressed Philip Milton on his way up, followed by two police officers and a balding old man in a tweed suit. Throwing out his arms to bar the men from continuing, Steve shot Milton a look of hatred mingled with disgust. "You have some nerve showing your face around here after what you did!"

"That's the man, officer, arrest him!" Milton pointed a ragged finger at Steve, defiantly attempting to push his bruised and beaten body past the star spangled Avenger. He had spotted Tony hesitantly lingering at the top of the staircase and wanted nothing more than to grab the young billionaire and finish what he had started back in the hotel.

"You. Are. Trespassing!" Steve, unfortunately for Milton, pushed back. The older man stumbled, pitched backwards and nearly caused the two officers and the nerdish looking bald man to crash down a flight of stairs.

Instead, Milton hung onto the banister, rearing up again to shout out his accusations. "See! He's doing it again, just like he did last night when he beat me senseless. These 'heroes' are nothing but a public menace. I demand that he be arrested. Immediately."

One of the officers gestured towards Steve, his right hand hovering awfully close to his firearm. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to come to the station to give us a statement on what transpired last night between yourself and Mr. Milton."

"Then you'll be wanting to take my statement as well." Tony cautiously joined Steve at the bottom of the stairs, avoiding making eye contact with Milton.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Tony?" Milton asked sweetly, raking the younger man over with a long, degrading glare. "You'll have to tell them _everything_."

On either side of Tony, Spider Man and Spider Woman appeared as moral support, both sensing that something was amiss with their resident genius' aura. Usually overflowing with arrogance and confidence, now Tony hung back, not quite engaging in the grudge match that Steve and Milton seemed to have going. What was even more puzzling was the odd telltale way that Tony reacted to Milton's presence. If Milton surged forward during a particularly emotional accusation, Tony flinched and shrunk back. All Milton had to do was narrow his eyes at Tony to make the brunette start to tremble.

"He won't be saying anything without his lawyer present," Spider Man broke in, gauging Steve's reddening face and the coiled muscles in his arms and neck, knowing a ticking time bomb when he saw one. "At least, that's what they all say in the movies. Right, Steve?"

Outside, the deafening sound of thunder rattled the Avengers Mansion, further distracting Steve from either going to Tony's aid or pummeling Milton into a bloody pulp. At this point in time, he could do neither for fear of screwing up Tony's case against the CEO of Ceristech.

As usual, Pepper's impeccable timing saved Spider Man from shooting off more lame one-liners, and Captain America from soiling his flawless reputation. The redhead strutted through the still open front door and stood there with her arms crossed in front of her chest as a frosty blond passed by her to serve Milton and the cops with a bulky stack of papers. She purposely failed to address Milton's quivering lawyer, making her threats to Milton herself.

"I'm Rebecca Lyonne, Tony Stark's attorney. You may refer to me as Ms. Lyonne. No, don't bother to shake my hand. On behalf of Mr. Stark, you are being charged with criminal confinement, sexual assault, uttering threats, and battery upon his person." She frowned in disdain when Milton opened his mouth to speak. "No, don't bother speaking either. You'll just waste my time and poison the air." Her cold stare shifted to the two cops that hung around near the staircase, speechlessly shrugging at one another. "As for the accusations against Mr. Rogers, consider them unwarranted. As evidence will prove, Mr. Rogers acted in defense of Mr. Stark, thereby altering the nature of Mr. Milton's charges. He claims," and she paused to flip through a separate bunch of papers before quickly coming up with the paragraph that she wished to quote, "that Mr. Rogers 'hunted me down, threatened me, and proceeded to attack me without provocation'." She flicked off a piece of lint from the sleeve of her immaculate, white, skirt suit and cleared her throat in irritation. "Clearly, this man appears to be a consummate liar because the videotape that my law firm has procured as evidence suggests otherwise."

Perhaps Lyonne's precise and deadly legal practices were something Tony took for granted, but her professional and capable attitude left everyone else in the room impressed and speechless.

"There is obviously a lot more going on than Mr. Milton has led us to believe," the heavyset officer stated after some careful thought. "It would be best if we were to go over this evidence of yours and these new accusations down at the station."

"Not before Mr. Stark has seen a medical professional for the injuries that he sustained at Mr. Milton's hands." Lyonne cut in neatly.

"Of course," the officer agreed.

"What do you mean? You can't let him be checked out by a _medical professional_," Milton snarled, lunging for Tony. "You'll give him plenty of time to fake the results. Can't you see that they're making this all up?"

Steve deflected Milton's clawed hand with enough force to leave some serious bruises. "I'm not going to let you hurt him again," he swore, his muscular arm coming to rest on Tony's shoulders, easing the trembling which had started anew.

"You are advised to leave the premises immediately lest you be charged with trespassing," Lyonne warned.

Milton opened his mouth to say something but firmly shut it again. But the look that he gave Tony spoke volumes, promising that he would not be the one who got hurt if this went further.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

**I can't thank everyone enough for all the wonderfully kind reviews on this story. Sometimes when I get writer's block, I feel like I just can't write anymore… and then I read some reviews and feel reenergized. So, much appreciation and many hugs for all the lovely feedback that you've taken the time to leave me. I appreciate every single message.**

***Content warning: This part contains graphic descriptions of m/m scenes that may not agree with some readers. **

**Part 8**

A couple of hours after Philip Milton had been physically escorted off the premises of the Avengers Mansion, Tony found himself returning to it feeling exhausted and demoralized. He'd just spent the better half of his evening being poked at by doctors while his rendition of his encounter with Milton had been dissected by the least compassionate police officers that the force had to offer.

Tony knew what must have been going through their heads. How could a man that created the Iron Man armor have possibly been overpowered by a simple-minded, yet publically outstanding, man in a business suit? While Tony had been interrogated and re-interrogated, the expressions on their faces practically screamed out, 'What utter nonsense!' If they had known the truth – that Tony himself was the man inside the armor, and not some faceless bodyguard like he led the general public to believe – they would have laughed at the irony of it all.

As Tony got out of his new shiny, black and red Bugatti Veyron super sports car, trudging miserably up the driveway, Pepper shot out of the driver's side and slammed the car door behind her.

Tony visibly cringed. "Pepper, could you take it easy on the doors and windows? I swear, you drive more aggressively than those Formula One guys."

Ignoring what was perhaps intended as a compliment, Pepper hurriedly intercepted Tony before he could escape inside. "You can't take what they said personally, Tony. They were only doing their jobs."

"Yeah, of degrading my masculinity," he muttered without looking at her.

"Tony, look, you hang around people with extraordinary powers. Most people just assume that Iron Man is another superhuman. And having your name linked with Iron Man, even if it's only in a design capacity, well… it raises expectations. You're a technological genius who is surrounded by power and political intrigue."

"Super genius," Tony interrupted.

That commented earned Tony an affectionate scowl before Pepper continued. "Alright. Super genius with a massive ego. But it was a major shock for everyone in that room to hear that, A, Iron Man didn't show up to defend you when you were attacked, and B, you just accused a rival company CEO of assaulting you." When Tony looked downcast at that, Pepper took hold of his arm and squeezed it warmly to get his attention. "You told the truth and Rebecca has the proof to back you up. I know that things seem shitty now, but they'll get better. I promise."

"Well… if you're promising, that has to be worth something."

Pepper exchanged a knowing look of amusement with Tony before they entered the mansion. Steve came storming down the stairs as soon as the front door opened, having heard the car pull up from his bedroom.

"How did everything go?" He inquired carefully, looking from his newly designated boyfriend to the well-composed redhead at his side.

"Shitty," Tony exclaimed.

At the same time, Pepper cheerfully announced, "Great!"

"Oh." Steve's expression clouded over, not knowing which reply to trust.

Tony forced a superficial grin onto his face for Steve's sake as he neared the stairs. "It wasn't so bad. They just asked the usual – age, sexual preference, orientation.. you know how it is."

"They asked you WHAT?!" Steve thundered, not cluing in on Tony's joke, not that he would've laughed even if he'd known that it was a joke. "They can't ask you questions like that!" He was halfway out the door before Tony and Pepper could stop him.

"Steve, calm down," Tony pleaded.

"Where are you going?" Pepper asked, already knowing the answer to that.

"The precinct. I'm going to teach those cops some good old-fashioned manners."

"Steve, I was joking. They didn't ask me anything that crude." Tony clung onto Steve's arm, being dragged out onto the front steps before the muscular blond stopped.

"They didn't?"

"No."

"Was that your idea of a joke?"

Tony cringed and sheepishly bowed his head. "Sorry?"

Looking as if he were inwardly counting to ten before risking opening his mouth, Steve slowly lowered his antagonized blue gaze at Tony and sighed. "Forget about it. I really should know you better than that by now." Wrapping his tense, muscular arm around Tony's shoulders, Steve ushered his high profile boyfriend back inside. "And Tony… there's something you ought to know…"

This time Tony sighed, exhaling loudly as Steve shut and locked the door. "There are TV screens in cars nowadays, Steve."

"Seriously?" Steve rode a motorcycle so he had no idea what modern cars came equipped with.

"Yes."

"So you know?"

"What? That the media is having a field day with this? Kind of hard not to know."

"And… are you okay?"

"Not at all." Checking the hallway to make sure that none of the other Avengers were loitering nearby, Tony reached up to grab Steve by his shoulders. "Maybe a kiss or two would make me feel better."

Steve grinned and practically crushed Tony in his arms. Without saying a word, he molded his mouth over Tony's, kissing him more aggressively when the younger man rubbed himself suggestively against Steve's thigh. Within seconds, their charged lust for each other drowned out Tony's resistance and Steve's common sense. Steve's tongue thrust hungrily into Tony's mouth as his fingers wove through the brunette's wavy hair. His other hand groped Tony's ass, holding him still so that he could grind against his hip. Tony moaned throatily and pressed in closer to Steve, desperate to increase the friction.

Steve growled and backed Tony into the wall outside the coat room, effortlessly lifting the brunette off of the floor and onto his tiptoes as he ground his pelvis lower, meeting Tony's frantic movements with his own. They were both stressed out and longing for release, and Steve didn't sense any hesitation whatsoever on Tony's behalf so he rotated his hips in tighter, squeezing the younger man's tight buttocks as the delicious friction increased.

"Steve… bedroom," Tony gasped between Steve's wet kisses, biting his lower lip to prevent himself from making too much noise.

"Won't make it," Steve protested, sucking Tony's lower lip back into his mouth. And then, his right hand pushed between them and wrestled with Tony's belt.

Tony was quite unraveled at Steve's total lack of restraint and social decorum. Steve was usually the practical, sane one, knowing when enough was enough. But the muscular blond obviously wasn't doing much thinking if his…

Tony buried his face into Steve's shoulder and gasped loudly as a large, warm, and slightly calloused hand pushed down his pants, into his briefs and began to tentatively palm his arousal. "Shit, Steve…," Tony whined, terrified by the thought of someone catching them like this, but… also unbearably turned on by it.

"I need this now, Tony," Steve breathed heavily into Tony's ear. His fingers wrapped around Tony's erection and began to jerkily stroke him, annoyed by the constrictive elastic feeling of Tony's silky briefs clamped to his wrist. A very small part of him that still controlled the honest morals of Captain America kept him from yanking Tony's pants down to his ankles and just being done with it then and there.

"What about you?" Tony panted, squeezing his eyes shut tightly when Steve began to circle his thumb around the moistness of his head.

"Too close," Steve grunted, working one thigh between Tony's legs as his stroking became faster and his hold firmer. The noises that Tony was making were enough to get Steve off. When he thought that Tony was close enough, Steve released him, pushing his hand lower until one of his fingers brushed against the heated entrance to the brunette's body. Badly wanting to feel that heat and tightness wrapped around him, Steve pushed one finger inside, listening to Tony give a small cry, before he sank it in deep.

Tony came with Steve's finger inside him, biting down on the sweaty shoulder his face had been pressed against to try and muffle his cries. But the feeling was incredible and overwhelming and soon he lost interest in who might have overheard and what they might be thinking.

Steve groaned heavily, coming a few seconds after Tony, his hips thrusting forward instinctively until he was spent. He gently lowered Tony back to the ground, allowing his lover to shakily regain his balance as the weight of what they'd just done hit him. Still, Tony wasn't protesting or drawing away. In fact, Tony seemed reluctant to pull away at all. Steve kissed his way up Tony's hot neck, stopping at his ear. "Later, this," he breathed, emphasizing his meaning by twisting his finger inside Tony. Again, the brunette moaned eagerly. "This is not going to be enough for me."

"Mmph," Tony's reply was smothered by another hot and demanding kiss from Steve. And then Steve was withdrawing his finger and pulling his hand out of Tony's pants.

They stayed that way for a minute or two until Tony made a face of discomfort. "Steve, I'm all wet."

"Yeah, me too."

"How're we going to get upstairs?"

Steve nodded towards the coat room.

"Yeah, that's not too obvious," Tony commented sarcastically. Still, they didn't have any other choice, so up the stairs they went with their borrowed coats. Thankfully, they didn't encounter anyone on the way upstairs, nor was anyone around to mercilessly tease them when they crammed into a shared shower.

**XOXOXO**

When they did manage to make it back downstairs for dinner, it was nearly midnight and the mansion was dark and quiet. Apparently, nobody had been home to overhear what they'd been up to. Even Pepper was mysteriously absent.

"I wonder where everyone disappeared to," Steve mused as they entered the dining room… and came face to face with a riled up Wolverine – in full costume. "Hey, Logan."

Logan snarled and narrowed his feral eyes at Steve, and then Tony. "I'm only gonna say this once, Stars and Stripes, so listen well. I don't care how bad yer itching for it. Take it to the bedroom next time or else I'll carve it off. How's that sound?"

"Um… sounds fair," Steve muttered, scuffing at the carpet in embarrassment.

Showing some compassion for Tony, by completely ignoring him, Logan roughly grabbed Steve's forearm and yanked him back into the hallway. "No time for roasted chicken. Just got a call from Clint. There's some crazy shit goin' on in the industrial district and he needs backup. So suit up and let's get movin'!"

"Be down in less than five," Steve called out as he dashed for the stairs.

"And I'll be up in less than two," Tony countered, heading for the basement. He didn't make it there for the hairy, pissed off savage man that purposely blocked his path, pushing him backwards and off balance. Tony fell onto his side, momentarily shocked before that feeling was replaced by annoyance and anger. "What is your problem, Logan?"

"You ain't comin', bub."

"Why the hell not? You're going to need backup and Iron Man is the perfect -."

"Yeah, Iron Man is perfect, but you ain't," Logan growled, warning Tony not to try to push past him with a slow shake of his head. "I sympathize with your situation, Stark, but you're too screwed up to go into battle right now. Yer just gonna be a liability for the team. You know I'm right."

Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest and set his mouth into an unhappy straight line as he glared at Logan, saying nothing.

"We can manage without Iron Man for one night. I'll keep an eye out for yer horny boyfriend, so stay here and get yer shit together. Got it?"

"Yeah, whatever," Tony mumbled, not looking up when Steve came barreling down the stairs wearing a costume that looked like the American flag had been painted onto his impressive physique.

Steve exchanged a grateful glance with Logan, pulled Tony against his chest and kissed him briefly before moving towards the front door. "We'll be back before you know it."

"I'll be asleep way before then," Tony called out sarcastically, wanting to throw something at Logan's head on his way out. But then they were gone, and he was left alone. Alone in a cavernous mansion feeling useless and agitated with nothing to do.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Many thanks again for the wonderfully kind reviews! I can't believe that there are readers from so many different countries. Even Japan, Israel, and Spain. I didn't even know that there were Steve x Tony fans in those countries. I guess that the fandom has really grown since I first got into this pairing, and that's so awesome to see.**

**I hope that you'll enjoy this part as much as the previous one.**

**Part 9**

Tony sat at the head of the ridiculously long dining table, fork in one hand, knife in the other. He had one leg tucked under him while the other was restlessly kicking the closest chair to his right. Nobody was there to tell him off or to remind him about his table manners so he continued to jostle the chair until a particularly forceful kick knocked it out of reach.

Damn Logan! Who had died and appointed him leader? And damn Steve for taking Logan's side!

Stabbing the cold chicken with both eating utensils, Tony pushed back his chair and abandoned the wasted feast of fowl, creamy mashed potatoes, salad, pudding, and freshly cut fruit. He wasn't in the mood to eat. Not being able to be there for his fellow Avengers really made him feel like he was nothing more than the faceless mechanic in the basement.

Come to think of it, nobody seemed to have a problem with Clint's flirtatious advances on Jessica. Or the never-ending sea of revenge-seeking ninjas, aliens, and biologically enhanced warmongers that seemed to have it out for Logan. Most people turned a blind eye to the constant bickering going on between Janet and Hank. So, what gave Logan the right to say that Tony was incapable of joining the fight due to a little media trouble? If anything, getting into the role of Iron Man would make Tony feel a lot more relaxed and confident. It was what he needed.

The sound of the telephone ringing startled Tony momentarily, causing him to glance over at the bright orange – Peter had chosen it – contraption over by the plush mint green ottoman. Why did people still use those things anyway? He could understand why the general public might still feel the need to rely on archaic inventions of the past, but the Avengers? Why was he wasting his time building wireless communicators the size of rice grains when Jessica, Peter, and Steve continued to pick up home furnishings and electronics at Wal-Mart? At least Logan made an effort to improve his working relationship with technology.

Abruptly, the phone ceased its shrill chirping and the room fell silent once again. Tony walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling windows that covered the back of the room, facing out onto the large expanse of luxury that the Avengers called a backyard. Although it was getting quite dark outside, Tony could still make out the Olympic sized pool, the barbecue, the cute patio set with matching umbrella off to one corner of the freshly painted wooden deck. If Steve hadn't gone along with Logan, they could've sat out on the deck and watched the sun set together.

Tony sighed miserably and pulled the heavy curtains shut. Royal purple. Why would anyone hang royal purple drapes in the same room as a mint green ottoman, bright orange telephone, and metallic blue lampshades? Sometimes sharing a house with so many colorblind people gave Tony a headache.

"Tony! Are you home?"

Jessica? Tony could've hugged her… if he were the hugging type, which he wasn't. Grateful to see that he wasn't the only person stuck in the mansion for the night, Tony rushed over to the stairs and shouted back. "Yeah! Why?"

"There's some guy on the phone for you. Says it's about an important business deal."

Tony peered up the winding staircase to see Jessica's long, dark glossy mane of hair hanging over the banister from above, her eyes looking less alert than usual. She'd probably been taking a nap by the looks of it.

"On the Avengers' line? That's strange…" Tony mused, beginning his ascent up the stairs.

"What's even stranger is the fact that nobody answered it. I'm exhausted and need to reverse about a year's worth of wrinkles caused by stress. The only way I can do that is with sleep."

"Oh… sorry. I didn't realize that anyone was home. I was just going to let it go to voice mail."

"Tony, the Avengers don't have voice mail." Jessica rolled her eyes and passed the pink cordless phone to Tony as he reached the landing of the top floor.

Now that he was at eye level with her, Tony felt a bit guilty for basking in his own self-pity when Jessica looked like she needed a lot more rest than he did. Her normally bright green eyes lacked a lot of the positive energy that they usually glowed with and her posture screamed out 'leave me alone.' Before Tony took the line off hold, he risked inquiring about her health. "Are you okay? Because you look like shit."

Jessica balked at that comment, eyeing Tony for a moment before replying. "You're not the only one who has a rough love life."

That killed the late-night-at-work theory. So he wasn't the only one with problems after all. Turning away from the sight of an unglamorous Jessica sans makeup and dressed in nothing more than a flimsy nightgown, Tony took the call. "Tony Stark. To whom am I speaking?"

"Where's your hero now, Tony?"

Tony's mouth opened but he couldn't seem to find his voice. He'd rehearsed in his mind what he'd say to Philip Milton the next time he got the chance. Over and over again, he'd practically drilled it into an automatic response. It should've been automatic. He should be tearing a hole in Milton's ego, not quivering in front of Jessica like some coward.

"He's not there, is he? What are you going to do without him?" Milton taunted, his tone becoming increasingly vicious when Tony failed to respond.

Although Jessica couldn't see Tony's face, something about the sudden stiff way that he gripped the banister, hunched over it, stopped her from returning to her bedroom. "Tony? Who is it?"

"Although this may seem cliché, I intend to finish what I started. You're nothing without your Avengers. By the time I'm done with you tonight, even your costumed friends won't be able to put you back together again. I'm going to destroy you… completely. Reduce you to the slut that we both know you are."

Tony clenched his fist around the phone, attempted to speak but his throat was so dry, closing up inside. He felt like he was drowning, unable to catch his breath, the stairs swimming beneath him. _Panic attack…_ He was having a panic attack. He couldn't breathe and the air just kept getting thinner and thinner.

"Tony!" Jessica said sharply, pulling Tony away from the stair landing to get a good look at him. Seeing the way that he was shivering, his eyes unfocused and filled with fear, she yanked the phone out of his grasp. "Who the hell is this?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, a slight hesitation, before Milton addressed Jessica. "Don't get in my way. Leave Tony Stark to me and I won't have any quarrel with you. Interfere and I will tear you to shreds."

Then, the line went dead.

"Tony, was that the guy that attacked you?" Jessica's expression hardened when she heard the way that her teammate was breathing – shallow and quick – both hands clutching at his chest as if he were in pain. "He can't get you here. We have a foolproof security system, booby traps in all the hallways… you designed this place, you should know. It's like one big impregnable castle."

As if the 'castle' wanted to contradict Jessica's reassurances, all the lights suddenly went off. Simultaneously, the electric hum of energy that powered all of the electronic gadgets in the mansion, including the security system, died out to be replaced by white noise.

Now Tony was gasping, losing control of his reaction to the situation, the blackness applying pressure to his chest and mind. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't relieve the tightness, the feeling of something strangling the air out of him.

Before Jessica could reach for Tony in the dark, the sound of breaking glass downstairs caused her to stiffen and freeze. The threat had been for real. The man after Tony was deadly serious and seemed to have a lot more technical know-how than Tony had credited him with. Their security system had been turned off. They were without power. The entire Avengers team, save for Jessica and Tony, were nowhere within assisting range. As Jessica's eyesight adjusted to the darkness, she struggled to think of something to say or do. She'd never witnessed Tony like this before. Hell, she'd never seen any of the Avengers freak out much at all. The Avengers were usually pretty good at keeping any and all weaknesses in the closet. Usually.

"I have to… get the armor," Tony whispered, his voice shaking, afraid that he might be heard over the odd hollow footsteps that clomped around on the main floor. He'd just managed to find the banister when Jessica pulled him back and away from the stairs. He was shaking so badly that he hadn't the power to resist her as she practically dragged him into her bedroom and quietly shut the door. "We need Iron Man," he hissed, desperate to get downstairs and suit up. He'd be able to defend himself as Iron Man. Milton wouldn't be able to touch him.

"You'd never make it past whatever is at the bottom of the stairs. Even if you were in top condition, which you're not," she whispered back. "Sit down." She pushed him down, onto her bed, and swiftly pulled her red and yellow Spider Woman costume out of the bedside drawer. "I can't fight in my lingerie. And you shouldn't be standing until you calm down and remember to breathe."

"How did he get past the security system? How is this happening?" Tony moaned, tearing his fingers through his hair in the nervous attempt to concentrate on something. "I should have gone with Steve. I shouldn't have listened to Logan."

"Look," Jessica placed both her hands over Tony's trembling ones and squeezed hard. "Steve isn't here. Neither is Logan. It's just the two of us. Until you can get to your armor, you're going to have to trust me. Can you do that?"

Tony refused to make eye contact with Jessica or answer her. He was too caught up in blaming himself for underestimating Milton. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to the police. Maybe he should've just let the whole incident go.

"I don't know the whole story about what went down with you and that nasty guy," Jessica began as she moved away from Tony and out of his line of sight to shirk off her nightgown and pull on the Spider Woman costume. "But I do know what he tried to do to you. I may not be Captain America but I've got my own skills and powers. If he wants you that badly, he's going to have to go through me first."

"Jessica…"

"You need to calm down, Tony. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. I can't fight and carry you out of the building at the same time. You need to get out on your own." Jessica zipped up the back of her costume and pulled on her cowl, followed by her boots. Predictably, the stairs began to creak with the weight of two or more intruders, creeping up to where they were hiding. "And as soon as you get out, you've got to contact the Avengers and provide backup as Iron Man."

Doing as he'd been instructed, Tony closed his eyes tightly and struggled to regulate his breathing. He couldn't let Jessica down. They had no idea how many of Milton's lackeys had broken into the mansion. The odds might be stacked against Jessica, in which case Tony needed to keep it together in order to… Unbidden, the memory that Tony had been holding back, had buried deep within him since _that night,_ clawed its way to the forefront of his mind. The feeling of Milton's heavy weight on top of him, the pain and discomfort of his restrained arms. And the sickening dryness of the older man's mouth on his.

Jessica whirled around when Tony made a choked noise and clawed at his hair as if he were trying to rip something out of his head. It was at that moment that she understood just what Tony was dealing with inside. She'd been brainwashed before. She knew what it was like to cope with shadows of the past that lurked on the edges of one's subconscious. Tony had been putting on a good act for the others, pretending like a good court battle would be all it took to make things right again. After all, how hard would it be to forget a little groping and a few bruises? Pretty easy, right? Yes, she knew what Tony must've been thinking. She'd been there before. Not in an identical situation, of course, but in a parallel one, of sorts. Bruises healed but nothing could really erase what was done to the mind.

Listening keenly for the footsteps that began on the opposite side of the hallway, Jessica crouched down to Tony and gently pried his fingers out of his hair. Steve would kill her if she let Tony rip out his hair. "You can't face him, can you?"

Tony swallowed hard and slowly shook his head, avoiding Jessica's sympathetic gaze.

"I'll try to prevent that from happening, but you have to help me out, Tony. There are at least five of them on this floor. I don't know if I can take them all. As soon as you see an opening, you've got to take it. Get to the armor, or get out of the building. You only have two choices."

The sound of heavy boots on the carpeting scuffed closer, circling around to the bedroom that they were hiding in.

Jessica settled into a fighting stance in front of Tony, breathing a sigh of relief when the brains behind the Avengers unsteadily forced himself to stand behind her. "Jessica… I'm sorry," Tony said hoarsely. Although he knew that she was well trained in the martial arts and a formidable ally, something about letting Jessica fight on her own made Tony feel even more nauseated than he already was.

"Get ready." Jessica's stance solidified, her hands out like claws, aimed at the door. Behind her, Tony clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. Basement or window? Which route was safer? Could he make it to the window at the end of the hallway? Or would Milton be anticipating that? Were all of Milton's goons on this floor? Or were there more lying in wait downstairs?

Before Tony could fully make up his mind, the bedroom door blasted inwards.

_To be continued…_


End file.
